


A Simple Conversation

by lemon_kic



Category: Original Work
Genre: ;), Dead of night talks with your almost wife, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Nightmares, Tea, That's fun, this is not done because i am lazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 20:38:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10929615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon_kic/pseuds/lemon_kic
Summary: Sometimes, having tea with a close friend is all you can ask for.Especially on nights like these.





	A Simple Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> heeey, gonna slide into this, it's not done, im working on it on the side, i usually so art so, this is a change
> 
> hope u like it somehow
> 
> (ps i swear i used indentions, formatting just hates me)

He woke up in a cold sweat, bleary crimson eyes barely registering a low golden glow coming from the closet. The light left on for comfort, a thin crack in the door to keep darkness at bay. The soft yellow glow of halogen light illuminated her face beautifully, calm and soft in the dead of night, with the slow and gentle rise and fall of her small but sturdy frame. White, sleep-tousled curls that appear glowing, highlighted by the same sliver of light. Her sun-kissed skin appearing darker in the scarce illumination. A smooth curve of a jaw, and the faded, rough scars around closed eyes, pale chapped lips, and large, folded, titanium white wings tapering off into inky black that simply completed the image. He sighed as he recalled the reason for him seeing her like this. A nightmare. Not uncommon, yet not welcome either.

It had been the same as usual. Stiff, sterile white lights, the coppery tang of blood in the air, muffled screams from down stark white halls. Monotone voices droning on, concerning ‘product testing’ and ‘fusing enhancements’ through crackling speakers in red-stained white rooms, bright lights above obscuring vision and seemingly distorting any and all perception of coherent information. This along with the sturdy shackles, a complete lack of freedom, of the skies, space unfolding, and stars and myths, what he later learned was his heritage, his legacy, his skies. But that was the past, and the quickened breath of self-inflicted suffering and horrible relations spiraling out of control was behind him. Not by far, but still.

As quietly as he can manage, he sits up, careful as not to disturb the person in bed with him. He shifts his gaze to her again, taking in her form more completely this time. God, what did he do to deserve her? She was like the sun, not in the sense that his brother was. Not loud and brash, demanding attention and a source of brazen and uncomfortable interactions, not a dry heat in a blazing desert. 

No, she was the sun in the interim months, the cool and calming breeze of fall, while warm colors cascade down in a myriad of colors, the soft sun of an early spring day, urging redemption and growth from the cold carnage of months’ past.

Swinging his long legs off the side of the bed, he stands, feet shuffling out of the room, down the cold floors of the hallway to stop at the door of the study. As he crossed the room the soft musk of books wafts to his nose, along with aromas of a long put out candle and a tinge of honey. Along with the shelves among shelves of books and notebooks and papers (over half of which are in braille) there is one wall in which there is a small alcove, with a large window facing slightly upward to view the skies. He slowly pads closer and takes a seat snuggling up to the wall to look out at the stars, galaxies and universes all of which were stripped away from him because of his own (his families) mistakes.

Maybe if he had seen through the lies told to him, maybe if he had noticed the way he was going was so wrong, maybe if he hadn’t been so quick to test limits, or if he met her, truly known her sooner than he did, maybe he would still have his freedom. It was the one thing he still believed he hadn’t fully gotten back. The ability to fly out, to use strong, ebony, wings he had before all of this, maybe he wouldn’t have all of these thoughts raging in his head if he had just listened-  
An ear twitched, hearing a tap-tap, tap-tap from down the hall, a clear introduction of who was to come. Her hand gently reaches out to feel the walls, grasping the door frame as she rounds the corner. Pale, pale blue eyes with light gray pupils blankly search the room as she waits for a noise to indicate a presence. Her wingtips gently brush against the ground, drowsiness clearly wrapped around her frame as she calls out in a whisper,

“Hey, Wisty?”

“Yeah,” he replies, almost inaudible

She continues to tap her way across the room, plain white cane aiding her navigation of a room and lay out she already knows by heart, yet she still manages to stumble over a pile, letting out a small giggle. As she reaches the wall, she reaches out a hand to feel for the alcove, butterfly touches brushing against the walls until he gently reaches out to help guide her. She moves her stouter, shorter frame under his arm, wings folded neatly behind her, reaching out to rest them along the floor of the cluttered room slowly as to not knock over any delicate piles.

“How’d you know I was here?” Wisteria questions softly, if a little raspy, with the residual effects of the habit of chocking back screams.

“Well,” Bentley whispered, “this is the best room to come and think in, yeah? It’s also the only one that faces the moon at this time of night, I think”

He forgot how often she listened to his brief stories of one of the only places he felt at home as a child. In the skies, gliding over the oceans and cliff-sides, swooping and swirling into the stars, closer to the cosmos. Now all he had to remind him of this was the two long, gnarled scars on his back. Another reflection of things he is not proud of, of irreversible mistakes of which he can only blame on himself.

She reaches out a hand to rest gently on his chest, slowly moving it upwards toward his face feeling heavy eyelids and deep sockets reflecting bags under his eyes before slipping her hand to his cheek. Resting her hand there, brushing her thumb across his high cheekbone and turning his face toward hers, resting her forehead against his and exhaling. 

“Another bad one?” she asks, trying her best to make eye contact.

“Yes” he rasps out, bringing his hand to rest on top of hers “I’m sorry to have- “

“Shhhhh shut, you know it’s not a bother, Wis. I’m here for you, especially to support you through all of this.”

She pulls him close, wrapping short muscled arms around a thin, lanky torso. In turn he tilts his head down in her hair, wrapping his right arm around her shoulders.

“I know” he says in a futile attempt to sound softer, “It’s just- it’s a hard thought process to get out of.” He finishes, gripping a little tighter around her shoulders.

She lifts a hand to place upon his arm, pulling back from the embrace so he can see her face.

“Yes, and I can’t even imagine how hard it is, but I’ll do my best to be here for you, I want you to know that.”

“Your care is abundantly clear love, I’m really blessed to have you with me, I thank the stars constantly for you.” A small and soft grin creeps onto his face, along with a light blush.

“Okay, you cheese stick, I’m really glad I’ve met you and that I am also occupying a close proximity to you as well, oh ancient raven priest!” she laughs, hearty and full. Not what someone would consider graceful or beautiful, but truly and wholly joyful and incredibly contagious. He can’t help but let out a chuckle as well, his ears perking up as he gently untangles himself to stand.

“Well, I guess we should head back to bed, we still have a few hours left…”

She stands and grabs her cane before taking his hand and leading him out of the room

“No sir-ee, you are getting a nice cup of tea before returning to the mighty realm of sleep” she states, gesturing widely with her cane, accidently hitting a wall “or you’ll be complaining all tomorrow, ‘Oh Bentley, how could you let me go to sleep’ and, ‘Bee-eeeeee, my throat hur-rrts.’ And I am saving my future self, right now, so sit down and help guide me.” She finishes as they enter their small kitchen, flicks on the lights, moving as she has so many times before.

“Alright, alright!” he says, faking exasperation with a grin persisting on his face “the good fruit tea is in the far right cabinet on the middle shelf to the left, and the kettle should already be out.”

“As much as I would love to put my hand on a stove that I’m uncertain is on or off, could you please come help me out?” she banters, “y’know, more efficiently?” she finishes as she grabs the tea, placing it on the counter.

She stands patiently with fingertips brushing the counter and her head cocked to side to half-face him. Wisteria stands up quietly, gently padding to the counter and * * *

**Author's Note:**

> that's all for now, will come back probably eventually, now time to study for exams i dont want to study for!! fun!


End file.
